Envy Me [h.s]

desperate

Saturday evening is the busiest day of the week. Which means tips were going to be extra pleasant today.

Short skirt? Check. Tight polo? Check. No bra? Check. No panties? Check. I am indeed desperate.

I make my way inside to see Yuvia serving drinks. "David wants you on the other side of the course today," She says, opening four bottles of beer and hugging them against her chest, her tits spilling out of her shirt. We are, in fact, desperate.

I go outside looking for David, so I can complain about him sending me out again this week. It's the hottest month of the year, the busiest day of the week, and the most active hour of the day. I serve beer. I'm not made for walking around with a golf bag offering my services.

"Elena, there you are," David says, and I approach him. "I was just telling Mr. Styles about you."

I was ready to complain to him, but when I looked up to see the 'Mr. Styles' David was talking about. I'm met with a pair of green eyes.

What was it that I wanted to complain about?

"Elena, Mr. Styles here, is looking for a caddy, and he's looking for someone exactly like you."

"I'm a beverage cart girl. I'm not a caddy," I say, trying to escape the situation. It wasn't that I didn't want to be Mr. Styles' caddy, but how was I supposed to work for him when all I was thinking about was what was under those khakis?

Mr. Styles is, in fact, really handsome. His blue long-sleeve polo is half unbuttoned. His khakis are a bit below his waist, and his white bucket hat looks so attractive on him for some reason.

"You've done it before, and you've done a spectacular job. Halstead is not here, and he's usually the one who golf's with him."

"I'm nothing like Halstead. I don't know what you told him, but there's no way he's looking for someone like me."

"Please, my sweet girl. Just today." David says, smiling at me and looking back at Mr. Styles.

"I guess I'll do it."

"Good girl," I hear Mr. Styles say with a smirk plastered on his face.

Silently, I follow him to his cart and slide in next to him.

"How come I've never seen you around?" he asks in a low voice, "I wouldn't be having Halstead with me if I knew you worked here all this time." He made his way to Hole One.

"I'm usually inside at the bar. David sometimes has me on the other side of the course driving around and serving drinks."

"I assume tips are very generous this time of the year." He says.

"They are. Mostly when you're a server."

"So you're not a caddie?" He cocks an eyebrow, turning off the cart.

"Why are you asking me something you already know? You knew this before I got in the cart with you." The words come out as soon as my eyes are back on him.

"David said you've done this before. In fact, he said you did a spectacular job, my sweet, sweet girl."

"Mr. Sty-."